


Tokyo Slide

by strange_glow



Series: Virus [2]
Category: Weiß Kreuz, various others set in Tokyo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3665091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_glow/pseuds/strange_glow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had so much fun messing with Yohji the first time (see Broken Strings) why not do it again?  This is a re-write of a fic challenge I attempted that didn't quite hit the mark, so I thought I'd pick it up and throw it at the wall a few more times.  It seems to have settled down nicely this time.  </p><p>AU, so don't expect cannon or even fannon most of the time.  Sort of like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; Crawford, Schuldig, Yohji, and various characters find themselves wondering What the fuck! on a regular basis on the stage of Tokyo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Crawford refrained from rolling his eyes as Takatori came close to apoplexy over being told that there had been a mix up.  The private dining room he wanted, the best room in the establishment, had been spoken for already that evening.   The alarming shade of purple the man was turning would have sent anyone not used to it speed dialing for emergency medical attendance.  Brad had given up the hope that Takatori would just die and relieve him of any lengthy explanations as to why he hadn’t been able to do his job. 

/The maitre-d was informed by the owner that the room would be given to someone with _more influence_ / Schuldig passed the info to Brad. 

“This is an insult!  That room was reserved for me yesterday morning.  Why did no one inform me then?” Takatori demanded.  “Do you even realize who I am?”

“A message was left at the number the reservation was made under, Sir,” the maître-d said apologetically. 

/That damn secretary—Calm him the fuck down and let's get him stowed in the next best room/ Brad ordered.

Schuldig slipped into the sewage drain Takatori called a mind and made him aware that he was probably making a fool of himself in front of voting constituents.  He and his guests would be just as comfortable in the next room over, with the same view of the garden, and a discount for the inconvenience. 

Takatori cleared his throat, pulled himself together and accepted the offer of the second best room with a discount. 

Brad gave Schuldig a look.  /That went unusually smooth./

                /I’m not in the mood for bullshit tonight/ Schuldig said. /I made him hear his father’s voice/.

                Brad had been wondering about that for the past few days.  Schuldig was unusually sullen, to the point where his irrepressible sense of humor was repressed.  Brad had narrowed it down to one possible cause for this.  Schuldig had accepted the situation with Yuuji with some grace; at first.  But the realization had sunk in that Yuuji was someone who knew ‘his’ Crawford better.

                They split up, Crawford leading the way and checking the room and the garden first, then the group of businessmen and minor politicians arranged themselves on the funny little wooden backed floor cushions around the low table.  Schuldig shut the doors and positioned himself by them.  Brad took the opposing side, in case ninja assassins jumped in from the garden or something. 

                As usual the conversation (or bullshit) was tuned out.  Schuldig kept a low level of watch on Takatori’s thinking and that was about it.  They both had their own forms of entertainment; Schuldig watching minds, Brad carefully watching future possibilities.  His power had been giving him grief since he’d had Schuldig unlock it.  The premonitions varied in range and vividness, sometimes making him wonder if he was actually reacting to reality, or the future that _might_ happen. 

                “Crawford,” Takatori snarled quietly.  “Find out who took that room.”

                /Who has it?/ Crawford asked Schuldig.  /I’m going to just step out and stay put, something tells me we don’t want to set off anything/.

                Schuldig sent his tendrils of talent into the next room and picked up four armed body guards, two thinking in Japanese, two in Cantonese, and the two men who were having their meeting over what one of them anticipated to be a good meal, and one was thinking—whoa….

                /Schuldig!/ Brad thought curtly at him.

                /We’ve got a high level Yakuza boss and the bitch queen of a Hong Kong Triad next door, complete with matching bookends.  Do _not_ let Takatori push this or we’re screwed with all these paper walls.  Hell, if they disagree, we might get caught in the cross fire.  Anything in the future?/

                /That bad?  I’m not seeing anything threatening from that direction./

                /It’s a rattlesnake pit over there. Asami Ryuuichi, by the way.  Ring any bells?/

                Asami.  Esset had considered him and then came down with a definite no.  The man was poison.  Rattlesnake indeed. 

                Brad stepped back into the room and knelt on one knee behind him to speak quietly to Takatori.  “Asami Ryuuichi.”

                Takatori frowned, but said nothing more, dismissing him back to his post with a wave of his hand.           

                Schuldig had no problem taking everything Takatori knew about Asami, colored with prejudice, of course.  /We should check up on this guy./

                /Never mind.   Esset rejected him as a candidate./

                /Too bad.  Takatori’s got a real hate on for him.  Oh, and guess what?  He’s gay as fuck, too./

                Brad shot him a look from behind his thin lenses. 

                Schuldig grinned at him. 

                /What has that got to do with anything?/

                /Oh, it’s too bad Esset doesn’t want to pocket him.   You could have Sarazawa infiltrate him./

                /Stop it./ Brad ordered.

                /Jealous of him, aren’t you?  And him alone in that ménage with all those little bonbons.  Fujimiya’s turned into quite a manly little thing.  Did ‘Yuuji’ tell you they dumped him in his bed the first night they were stuck with him?  He came home from a binge and found him sprawled there like a virgin sacrifice./ 

                /Knock it off./ Brad gave him the look of impending death.

                /Ah, my bad, I keep forgetting all is forgiven for what happened when he wasn’t himself.  I’m just glad he didn’t test positive for anything./

                /Remind me to shake you silly the minute I get my hands on you in private./ Brad threatened. 

                Schuldig didn’t tell him what he thought about having hands on him in private lately. 

 

*             *             *

 

                Asami didn’t like leaving trails behind, but this one had been unavoidable.  The man he’d sent to keep an eye on the situation in the Baishe clan had warned him that Fei Long was out of prison and pissed as hell.  Until he’d gotten that message, he hadn’t thought at all about the spoilt brat.  Now, he was rather irritated with himself.  Loose ends tended to lash around when a hurricane hit, and as for meeting in neutral ground, it was pretty clear, Liu Fei Long was an impending hurricane.

                “What’s with the look?” Asami said after the waitresses had poured the wine and left the room.

                “Is that how  you address me after seven years?  After what you did to me?”

                “Remind me.  What exactly is it that I did?” Asami asked, lighting up yet another cigarette and tapped the ash off the end of it in a provided ash tray, looking at Fei Long with a practiced combination of mild boredom and equally mild interest.

               

                Fei Long blinked, the wind taken out of his sails almost literally.  All the anger, all the hate, and this man acted as if he _remembered nothing_?  That the past was nothing of consequence? 

                “You killed my father and my brother!” he found the breath to accuse.  “You left me to take the blame!”

                “With your family, anyone would need a score card,” Asami sipped his wine.  “Seems to me that you were out of the room when Yanzhui interrupted the conversation I was having with your adoptive father.  What makes you so sure I was the one who shot a dying man I had no reason to kill?”

                “My brother told me—!”

                “That would be the same guy who was smacking you around, and locked you up without telling the old man you’d snuck back to see him on his death bed?” Asami drawled.  “And you were running around in the pouring rain with a fever.  I think it must have been blood poisoning by then, don’t you?”

                Fei Long could have shredded him with his bare hands at this point. 

                “I shot Yanzhui after he shot your father, that I did do, and the bastard deserved it.  Is that all you hung onto in prison?  I’d have been a bit more concerned as to why the Triad let me rot in jail if I were you.  So, what are you planning on doing now?  Shooting me for the hell of it?” he said with an amused little smile. 

 

                On the other side of the wall, Schuldig’s chin rose a little in alarm. /Brad—they're going to pull guns next door…!/

                /No, they are not.  How many times do I have to remind you that thinking is not always doing?/ Brad informed him.  /Could you possibly stay focused on what these morons are thinking?/

                Schuldig swept a little deeper around the room he was in and then slipped back into the minds of the men in the next room.  /Oh./ he relaxed a little.  Then smothered a snicker.  This was getting interesting.

 

*             *             *

 

                Dinner went on (and on...), but at one point, Takatori excused himself to go find the restroom and nodded at Crawford to come with him.  /Try not to fall asleep on your feet,/ Brad advised Schuldig as he opened the door for Takatori and fell in step behind him.

                In the bathroom, Takatori stepped up to a urinal and unzipped.  “I want Asami out of the way.”

                (I want to see you to drown in your own piss; we all have needs.) “In what way, Mister Takatori?” Brad asked. 

                “He’s getting too big for his pants.  My idiot brother, the chief of police, is too busy with his own projects to deal with the Yakuza in this city.  And Asami Ryuuichi has too many tentacles twined in too many places to take down legally.  I want him removed.  As quietly as possible, without so much as a ripple.”

                Brad considered this.  He drew in breath through his teeth, “That might prove--somewhat difficult," he said in a reluctant tone.

                Takatori shot him a look, irritated at Crawford’s ability to ‘be’ Japanese.  What the hell was the man anyway?  “Are you saying you can’t do your job, Crawford?”

                “There are certain people Esset wishes to keep in position,” Crawford said.  “I’d have to confer with the home office before merely eliminating someone at the level Asama Ryuuichi has achieved.”

                “ _I want him gone_ ,” Takatori stated, finishing up his business and zipping up his slacks again.  “You tell Esset that!” He glared at Crawford, then stalked past him to wash his hands at the sink.

                “As you wish, Mister Takatori,” Brad said, bowing obsequiously.   

                In the hall way, Takatori, being first, found his way blocked by the big bulky bleach haired body guard Asami had brought with him.  The man stood there like a bronze statue, then flattened against the wall to allow him to pass.  The implication was there.  Takatori was suffered to pass.  The body guard met Crawford’s eyes with a cool flick of predator to predator, then moved on his way to the restroom.          Crawford had the impression that while he looked big and dumb, he wasn’t in Asami’s employ because he actually was.  /Schuldig, report./

                /The waitress in the pink kimono is going to have a problem on her hands, and I’m bored./

                /Asami’s meeting?/

                /The body guards are going to be just as bored./ Schuldig snickered. 

                /Behave,/ Brad warned.

                /You could learn a few things/

                /I said behave!/ Brad ordered. 

 

                Schuldig knew that mental tone.  He didn’t dare ask, because when Brad snapped like that, he was not only seeing a problem in the future, he was internalizing things, and having to focus on separating himself from the adrenaline and emotions that came with vivid precognitions.  That meant it was bad.  Back when he’d had a neon sign over his head that blinked “young and stupid”, Shuldig had tried to push Brad out of curiosity.  The unusual confusion and frustration in the normally cold as ice mind was like honey to a bear.  It took two emergency room trips to cure him of that.  The first time, he’d got a broken  nose. The second, he’d been left to get in a near fatal train accident as a warning that he should let the man ‘do his thing’ in peace. 

               And that had been before he knew his place in a few other areas as well.  He backed off and made plans to ‘be nice’ later. 

               

                Schuldig's plans were ruined when he realized as the door opened that being focused on Brad in the hall and elevator of the apartment building had stopped him from noticing Sarazawa, alias Kudoh Yohji, was in the flat before it was too late to mentally adjust.  Damn it!  “Why are you here?” he demanded.

                “Nice to see you again, too, Darling,” Sarazawa got up off the sofa in a liquid move of long limbs and padded over to greet Brad with a hand clasp and kiss on the cheek.  “What’s up?” he asked.

                “I called him,” Brad said to Schuldig, putting a hand over the one 'Yohji' held his in.  “I need Weiss to act for me.”

                “You’re out of your mind, right?”

                Schuldig was pleased to see Brad give Yuuji the same look _he_ got when he was being insubordinate. 

                “If I were out of my mind, I’d let Farfarello take care of this,” Brad stated.

                “Ah, sorry,” Yuuji backed off.  “Coffee?”

                “Coffee,” Brad agreed grimly. 

                Schuldig sighed and tossed out his plans for a romantic soak in the huge tub surrounded by candles, incense, wine and that new brand of self heating sex oil that made everything extra tingly.  He wondered if there was a way to cut half through Yuuji’s damned wire without it being obvious until he was having to hang from it from ten stories up or something---.

                Brad reached over and yanked his hair for that one. 

                Schuldig still had the sense of self to act innocent and hurt at the random attack.

                Brad glared at him, then took off his jacket and hung it up.  He went to sit down on the sofa, pulling lose his tie and looking at his watch with a heavy sigh.  It was already 11:49 pm.  Takatori expected them to be there at 8 am for his meeting with the nuclear power commission executives. 

                Schuldig sat down next to him and ran a possessive hand over his thigh, then leaned on him and nuzzled his shoulder through the white shirt, inhaling his cologne and the slightly sweaty but not offensive smell of his body.  They hadn’t eaten since before the meeting at the restaurant.  “Do you want something to eat?”

                “I suppose I should,” Brad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, looking tired.  He left the hand with the glasses resting on his leg. 

Schuldig ran his hand over the back of Brad’s, caressing it.  The veins were dark and obvious.  He’d been slowly losing weight since they came to Japan.  Takatori was like a slow acting poison.  “I can make an omelet.”

“No,” Brad said.  “Yuuji, would you run down to the corner and get some of those bean paste buns or something?  I could use a little carb-sugar rush to go with the caffeine.”

Yuuji smiled amenably and grabbed his dark red snakeskin ‘clubbing’ jacket from the back of the sofa.  “Save me some coffee.  I might as well stay up.  I have to look suitably dead tomorrow morning when they try to wake Kudoh Yohji up after a night of drinking and whoring.”

“Is that where you are?” Brad was amused.

“Airline size bottles of scotch, cheap perfume spray and lipstick in the glove box; the perfect disguise and alibi,” Yuuji said, heading for the door and slipping into his shoes. 

The door shut and Brad freed his hand to put his glasses back on and unbutton the top two buttons of his dress shirt.  He looked at Schuldig, “I’m sorry your plan was ruined.  It would have been nice.  Maybe tomorrow night.” 

Schuldig frowned. “Right.  Date a precog, loose the romance.”

Brad caught his jaw and turned him for a kiss on the lips, slow and lingering, finishing with a bit of a bite on the lower lip.  “You’re adorable,” he assured.

“I’m also younger and more flexible.”

“The first is simple calendar fact; the second--is debate-able,” he teased.

“Tell me he isn’t staying."

Brad ran his fingers through the coppery mop.  “Don’t be a brat,” he coaxed. 

“I don’t want to share anymore," Schuldig insisted, though not with any hope.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Brad’s tone was one of absolutely refusal to budge despite its softness.

“What is wrong with wanting to be the only one someone is fucking?” he moved away to sulk.

“Hmm, your eyes do get more green than blue when you’re pissed,” Brad smiled, leaning over until his breath brushed Schuldig’s lips.  He kissed him lightly, then traced a finger tip across those lips. “I told you, I’m keeping Yuuji.  Once or twice a month is nothing to be concerned about.  If anything, it’s not fair to him that you get almost all my time.”

“Fuck being fair to him!  He should have stayed dead.”

“Schuldig,” Brad said.  “We are not having this fight again.  You’re tired and irrational.”

The red head huffed in irritation and lost the battle to push the argument aside, from his mind, from his emotions.  “Why do you have to be like this!”he demanded.

“Because I love you both, just as much, and for one thing in my life to be MINE, I’ll take this for now,” Brad informed him.  “Stop fighting it and give me what I want.”

“Black mailer,” Schuldig said. 

“You have me, what more do you want?”

“You’re so full of yourself!”

“I don’t hear you complaining when you’re full of me too.”

“For that ridiculous pun, I’m going to be mad at you for another week."

“Fair enough,” Brad kissed him again.  “We’ll still use the extra tingly oil,” he tugged at a lock of Schu’s hair.  “Coffee’s done.  Get me a cup, too?”

Schuldig untangled himself from the sofa.  “I’ll make one for Yuuji, too.  So I can spit in it.”

“Nice,” Brad said sarcastically, knowing he wouldn’t do it.  But it occurred to him that perhaps it was too much, as fun as it was, to expect Schuldig to put up with a three-some.  And maybe he was over reaching a little, as entertaining as it was.  And perhaps—at this point, Schuldig would feel more relieved than irritated to allow him to go with Yuuji alone for an evening or two?  There were things he wanted to say that he couldn’t with Schuldig there. 

Schuldig came out with two mugs and set Brad's down in front of him on the coffee table.  He sat down to sip his own. 

“Would you prefer it if I didn’t ask you to join Yuuji and I, on occasion?”

Schuldig bit his lower lip.  “That’s cheating then isn’t it?  At least if I’m there, you’re not exactly cheating on me.  Or Sar—on Yuuji.”

Brad had a sip of coffee and tried to relax just a little more.  “You and your irrational way of making sense.”

Schuldig curled up on the sofa and leaned into him, head on his shoulder, closing his eyes.  “I want to go back to the way we were; I want it so bad.”

Brad set the coffee cup down and put an arm around him, leaning his cheek on Schuldig’s head.  “I understand,” he said softly.  “I'm still dealing with the shock of his being alive, but things are the way they are now.”

                Yuuji opened the front door, ruining the mood.  “They only had the souvenir things left, but you said sweets.”  He slipped off his shoes and came in, tossing the packages of white and red bean filled manju on the table and wadding up the plastic bag to throw in the waste basket by the small desk.  “Bad day?” he took his jacket off and draped it over the other sofa.

                Brad refrained from saying what he was thinking. That it was getting worse, or had the potential too, if he didn’t diffuse yet another time bomb.  “What is your standing with Weiss right now?”

                Yuuji went into the little service kitchen of the flat.  “Business as usual. Not a word about Birman, which makes me wonder.  However, the change in me seems to be more of a relief than a threat; they’re so used to working with damaged goods.  Is this mug mine?”

                “Yes,” Schuldig answered, raising his head and pulling his hair back with a hand, looking stressed. 

                Yuuji came out, blowing on the still steaming coffee to cool it.  “You look like hell,” he sat down on the sofa across from them, addressing Brad.  “What fresh horror slouches our way?”

                “Takatori wants Asami Ryuuichi removed.  Surgical strike.”

                Yuuji laughed, “Doesn’t expect much, does he?”

                “No, not for someone Esset is setting up to be the Japanese Hitler,” Brad sipped his coffee. 

                Schuldig leaned forward to grab a sweets package and tear it open, getting one cookie-like cake to unwrap and stuff in his mouth.  “But do we want to do it?  To piss off Esset, or because it should be done?  You see, I’m getting confused as to how far we’ll go to slit our own throats in an attempt to slip the choke chain.” He grabbed another little maple leaf shaped cake and unwrapped it, holding it to Brad’s mouth, reminding him to eat.

                Brad bit it, then took the other half in his own fingers while he chewed and had more coffee; a good large swallow of it.  “Esset doesn’t like Asami, but for now, he’s neutral in their eyes.  Someone on top to squash the other gangs down.  He’d treat Takatori the same way he treats all politicians; collect a fee and let them go on, as long as they don’t cause a stink in his vicinity.  This will cause a stink.  Weiss will have to protect him from us.”

                “Oh, no, no, _no_ ; that’s just crazy talk,” Yuuji exclaimed.  “You want _us_ to protect that platinum plated bastard from _you_?  Come up with a damned good reason I can explain to Socks the crazy cat lady why Persia would even consider him worth our notice.”

                “On the surface, he’s Mr. Perfect.  Exemplary businessman, donates to charities, runs in high society, and makes lots of money---which is enough to make him lovable to anyone in a position of political authority.  He’s practically a national treasure, if one counts being a yakuza as a Japanese cultural prize, which for all I know, it is,” Brad felt the combination of sugared protein and caffeine kick in rather fast, and realized he’d been starving. “Naturally the 'Dark Beasts' are out to do him in,” he set his cup down and took his glasses off again to rub his forehead tiredly.

                Yuuji frowned a little, a twitch at that comment.  “And the outcome?”

                 “Apparently my talent is still seeking a level,” Brad looked at him with slightly unfocused eyes.  “Five to six seconds had become a habit.  Now, I get too much or too little, and some times, I suspect that on a subconscious level, I’m suppressing things I simply don’t want to face.  However, sticking to the facts; Asami is forging an alliance with Liu Fei Long, the head of the Baishi Triad out of Hong Kong.  Baishi has become deeply involved with drug running in past few years.  If Asami has undue influence on Baishi, the drug trade will stop, and they'll go back to mere prostitution, porn, industrial spying and arms trafficking, which will in turn save a lot of lives on both sides of the equation.  If Asami disappears at this point, Liu Fei Long will make the Mongol invasion attempt look like an amusement park boat ride, and no Kami will blow this one back out to sea.  He’s not after the business; he’s after Asami.”

                “So—it would be to our advantage to keep Asami healthy.” Yuuji rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was having trouble following all this.  “But how?”

                “I’ll take a few false runs at Asami, make him nervous enough to figure out something is coming his way, tell Takatori we’re laying a path to his demise, and then Weiss will show up and ruin all our plans,” he pouted sarcastically.

                Yuuji laughed.  “And naturally, because Weiss is so very cleverly hidden behind their uber-secret disguise, no one would _ever_ locate us and dispose of us.  Even though all it would take is an incendiary or two in the flower shop window at the crack of dawn.”  He finished his coffee and plunked his mug down on the low table. 

                “Not funny, Yuuji,” Brad chided.

                “I did not blow myself up,” Yuuji reminded him.  “And you forget, demolition is one of my specialties.  So get over it.”

                “I’m tired,” Brad deflated a little more. 

                Yuuji got up, coming over to reach a hand down. “Let’s put you to bed, then.”

                Schuldig bristled, then shut it down in time to let it pass unnoticed.  He wanted to make excuses to throw Sarazawa out and in the process, lift the spare key card from his pocket, but that would only make _him_ the villain.  He forced himself not to frown and got up.  

                Brad stood up to be pulled into Yuuji’s arms and kissed.   

                “Missed you,” Yuuji breathed just short of a demanding growl. 

                Brad held him, running a hand down his side to attempt to squeeze his butt through the tight leather slacks and kissed him on the neck and then bit him there lightly.  “I’m seriously too tired," he admitted.

                Yuuji caught his lips with his and kissed him again.  “You owe me a rain check.”

                Brad laughed softly.  He looked at Yuuji and reached up to tuck honey blond locks behind ears.  “I owe you a safe retirement to a life of luxury while we are still young enough to not appreciate it as much as we should.”

                Schuldig caught a flash of fear from Sarazawa for his independence that was quickly buried and paved over neatly.  Interesting. 

                “A villa in Monte Carlo,” Yuuji grinned.  “With beaches, more beaches and lots of sand.”

                “And the sun and the moon,” Brad whispered, lost in memories, he ran a hand up a lightly bronzed bare arm, his thumb massaging the tattoo there. 

                “Stop,” Yuuji said, smiling into his eyes. 

                Brad smiled a little, then broke off the intensity he was not only feeling but exhibiting.  “Over tired,” he excused himself.   

                Yuuji looked at Schuldig pointedly, a reminder to Brad that he was in the room.  “Don’t just sit there, help me get him tucked in.”

                Brad watched 'Virus' turn on the talent, involving Schuldig, establishing camaraderie, maneuvering, manipulating and chatting him into cooperation as easily as if he weren’t dealing with another Rosenkreuz valedictorian.  Common ground; hate for Takatori, and the stupid actions of his Weiss coworkers---something about a hose and a cactus Brad missed because he was too tired to care, that had Schuldig laughing.  Yuuji actually invited the telepath in to his mind share the visual memory.  Damn he was good. 

                Brad petted Schuldig, rather proud of him, caressing the copper red hair. /Thank you/ he thought at Schuldig as his shirt was dragged off his arm.

                /You owe _me_ a hell of a fucking lot more than a rain check/ Schuldig informed him, picking up his legs and putting them on the bed with a bit of work.

                /Ah, you brat,/ Brad sighed as he slipped into sleep.

                “And he’s out like a light,” Yuuji took the glasses off Brad’s face and set them next to the stylish little alarm clock on the bedside table.  “Good night, Shu-kun.  Make him take it easy tomorrow, will you?”

                Schuldig said nothing to that, giving him a 'you're dismissed' look.  Yuuji took the hint and made himself scarce.


	2. Two

The notorious Kudoh Yohji (must keep that in mind, Yuuji told himself) slipped into the shop just before dawn.  Nothing new about that.  Except that he had had a few more hours sleep these days then he would have after a night on the town in his brain-washed days.  He slipped out of his shoes and started up the stairs, quiet as air. 

                An alarm went off. 

                Shit!

                No, it was the quiet buzzing of Omi’s alarm clock.  Yuuji checked his watch.  Shit!  Was it that late/early already?  He hastily beat it for his own door and unlocked it, slipping in just in time to hear Omi turn off the alarm with a grown. 

                He shut door behind him and started stripping, throwing his clothes everywhere and fell face down on the bed to smother his sudden fit of laughter in the pillow. 

Oh, this was going to be fun!

 

*     *     *

 

                Fei Long woke with the realization that he couldn’t move his arm.  He opened his eyes and looked at the metal cuff on his wrist.  He yanked at it, only to find out it was very much attached to the metal bed frame’s head board.  He half sat up, looking around.  The shower was running. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and scowled.  “ASAMI!”

                It took three more yells at the top of his lungs to get the jerk out of the bathroom. 

                “I’m going to piss on your fucking bed if you don’t get these damned things off me!” he rattled the chain. 

                Asami toweled his hair and walked over to look in the drawer.  He found the keys and walked around the bed to unlock the cuff, completely ignoring the look Fei Long was giving him. 

                “Pervert!”  Fei Long got up and beat it to the bathroom. 

                Asami went to his dresser and picked up his brush to start pulling it through his hair. 

              When Fei Long finally came out he started looking for his clothes and pulling them on.  “What the hell was that for?”  He sat down to pull on his socks. 

                “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

                “Not for long,” Fei Long stated. 

                Asami got a cotton under shirt out of the drawer and took off his bathrobe to put it on.  He followed it with briefs.  “What are you so mad about now?” he asked calmly.

                Fei Long paused in pulling on his slacks.  He frowned.  “You chained me up.” 

                “I let you go, didn’t I?”

                “Are you insane?” Fei Long demanded, standing up to pull his slacks up the rest of the way.

                Asami walked over to him, and sat down on the bed, reaching over to find a lighter and cigarettes. 

                “Where the hell is my shirt!” Fei Long looked around.

                Asami caught him by the fabric of his pant leg and gave a tug.  “Why don’t you come back here?”

                Fei Long looked down at him. 

                Asami smiled, jaded, impertinent, expecting to be obeyed. 

                Fei Long wavered, then sat down beside him. 

                “Are you as mad as you think you are?” Asami took the cigarette from his mouth and rubbed Fei Long’s thigh with his empty hand.  “Or are you always this cranky in the morning now?”

                Fei Long noticed the clock on the wall.  “Shit!  It’s not morning, it’s nearly noon!”  he got up and started hunting for his shirt again.

                “Fei-kun,” Asami got up and caught him by the oh so convenient hair, but not yanking.  “Slow down,” he managed to pull him into his grasp without burning him on the lit cigarette and caught him up in a kiss that had him forgetting to breath for a few moments. 

                He opened his eyes to look Asami in the face, and shuddered a little.

                “What is so damned important that you have to rush back to it?  You’re the head of Baishi, not the kicking boy any more.  Make people come to you, order other people to rush around, but don’t make a spectacle of yourself,” Asami had somehow maneuvered him into a half embrace and now lead him back to the bed, and sat him down. 

                “I’ve ordered breakfast for us,” he said, pulling a stray lock out of Fei Long’s face and putting it aside, looking him over.  “The buttons were off your shirt, I had it thrown out.  One of my employees is bringing you some clothes later.”

                Fei Long frowned at him. “What are you up to?”

                “Why are you so suspicious?” 

                “I mean it, Asami, what are you up to?  Are you keeping me here against my will?” Fei Long demanded.

                Asami caressed his cheek.  “Why are you so beautiful?” he leaned over to kiss him again and then pushed him gently backward on the bed. 

                “Stop this,” Fei Long said, “Stop it right now,” he heard his own words fade off into the press of Asami’s lips on his.  Oh what the hell….

 

*     *     *

 

                /I’m going to kill him, I’m going to kill him,/ Schuldig was chanting in a sing song in anyone’s head who could hear him, which was all three of the other members of Schwarz, since Brad insisted on them maintaining a link when on the job.  Right now, he was about to loose all self control and reduce Takatori to humanoid pudding if he could just convince Brad it was a good idea! 

                /Oh stop it./ Brad thought at him.

                /But I _want_ to kill him!/ Schuldig whined. 

                Brad shot him a look that said something about disembowelment, small intestines, knitting and so forth that would lead to potential problems going to the toilet from then on.  Or so Schuldig interpreted it from the few faint images he was able to get through Brad’s shields. 

                He shut up.  Sort of.  Well---he stopped thinking so loud. 

                Takatori was droning on and on about the big plans he had for some new building, amazingly, a hospital.  Ironic considering how many people his ambition had maimed or killed outright. 

                Farfarello was in the air ducting, making sure he knew each and every one of their potential targets by sight, sound and smell; an expert hunter, who studied his prey.

                Nagi was secretly stashed away in Takatori’s office, going through all his records and files to make sure they knew absolutely everything.  It was the first chance they’d had since coming to Japan and Brad wanted to catch up on that part of the assignment with this opportunity.  They rarely stayed in Takatori’s offices, but this meeting was perfectly timed. 

                Brad manfully stifled a yawn.  Normally he found most things to do with business interesting.  Takatori had a way of sucking the joy out of everything.  And the construction company was already planning to use cheap concrete, which once again, was going to cause some major structural problems later.  Brad's talent ebbed and flowed now, but it wasn't letting him down as it had the first few weeks.  He sighed silently as an increasing probability focused into absolute certainty.  Stupid Yuuji. 

 

*     *     *

 

                Yohji turned and was slammed back against the wall in the storage room. 

                Blue/Brown hazel eyes that looked purple in most lights glared up at him.

                “Aya, what did I do now?” Yuuji was genuinely shocked. 

                “Where were you last night?” Aya snarled, having grasped him by the sleeves of his short sleeved shirt and pinned him to the wall with his own body.

                “What?  Out.  We didn’t have a mission or anything,” Yohji said. 

                Aya scowled, then frowned, then looked confused, and settled on angry again.  “Yohji—,” he said.  Then growled like a wild cat. 

                Yohji thought at first he was going to bite him; tear at him with his bare teeth. 

                Instead, Aya kissed him.

                Yohji’s eyes went wide as he realized the situation he was in. 

                Aya made a soft sound and then let go of a sleeve to slide his hand down to Yohji’s crotch and caress him. 

                “Aya!” Yohji tried to crawl backwards up the wall.  The wall was having none of it, condemning him to proper physics. 

                “You go out with so many women, what’s one more fuck?” Aya said bitterly. 

                “Aya….” Yohji protested, still in shock.

                Aya fumbled with the low cut pants, managing to get his zipper down.  “Stop squirming.  You’re being ridiculous!”

                “But Aya…” was all Yohji could find to say.  What the _hell_ was happening here?  Who’d been messing with his mind again, because this couldn’t possibly be happening...! “Oh…” 

                Aya had him by the hard on; and it was most definitely a hard on. 

                It must have been all that sword practice. 

                “Aya, stop this, it’s not—,” Yuuji felt the heat flashing through his vitals with every stroke.

                Aya’s thumb slipped across the slick of pre-cum oozing from the tip of Yohji’s alternative brain pan and let him go long enough to undo his own black jeans and push them down to bare his own lower body.  He turned and pushed back against 'Yohji’s' hard on. 

                “You don’t want to do this….” Yuuji tried to articulate.  He wasn’t sure he’d said it right, because at this point, he was feeling rather woozy.  The soft skin and hard muscled buttocks pressing against his cock were over riding all security systems in his mind. 

                A sachet of sex oil was pushed into his one hand, and both of Aya’s hands reached back to grasp him by the hips so that Aya could squirm against him in a decidedly expert lap dance. 

                “Oh, someone should spank you,” Yohji tore the top off the oil with is teeth and squeezed the packet dry into his hand. 

 

*     *     *

 

                “What the hell were you thinking!” Schuldig demanded, so angry he was yelling in German.

                “Will you just calm down?” Yuuji tried his reasonable soothing voice. 

                “You are ruining my fucking life!” Schuldig raged.  “Kill him!” he pointed to Yuuji, looking expectantly at Brad.

                Brad stood with his arms crossed, always a signal that he was trying hard not to punch someone.  He looked sullen, then pushed his glasses up in an un-needed, but habitual gesture.  “You weren’t thinking, were you?” he said quietly. 

                “Look, I’m telling you the truth, doesn’t that count for anything?” Yuuji said, hands held out in surrender.  “I was raped.  How about some sympathy for the victim!”

                “You kill him dead again, or I’m leaving,” Schuldig stated at Brad, then stomped out of the room and slammed the bedroom door. 

                “You can’t leave!” Brad yelled after him. 

                “Watch me!” Schuldig yelled back through the door. 

                Brad focused on Yuuji again. 

                “Brad,” Yuuji stepped toward him.  “Buddy, Sweetheart, come on,” he wheedled. “Don’t be mad.”

                “I’m immune, remember?”

                “Why the hell do you think I love you?” Yuuji said. “We’ve been through this before.  You always said it didn’t matter what I did in the line of work.  That’s all this is, work.  The only reason I mentioned it is because you would have found out anyway.”

                 “You forget.  I _saw_ you,” Brad stated.  “You had every chance to stop it going this far.”

               “What chances?  Tell, me, because _I’m_ not the psychic one here!” Yuuji left off reasonable for righteous indignation.  Normally, he was pretty good at going through the motions, but this was not work, and he did not feel like faking it.  “I’m stuck in this mess without a paddle and you expect me to just shrug off a guy with a huge fricking sword I’m trapped in the same house with?  It’s the same as it ever was, Brad.  When the job is over, _I walk_ , no looking back, and I come back to you!  Except this time, you’ve already got someone to replace _me_ , haven’t you!  And I think maybe your _mind controlling telepath_ might know a little more about Fujimiya's sudden personality shift than I do!”

                “That’s a fucking cheap shot and you know it!” Brad yelled back at him. 

                “Well maybe there’s a lot of cheap shots being fired around here!” Yuuji responded just as loudly.   “Maybe I was thinking!  After all, who’s the one who’s cheating around here?  Hunh?” he threw a vague hand toward the bedroom.  “Excuse me but I’m supposed to be exclusive?  I’m sorry, I didn’t get the memo that said you got to fuck two guys at the same time and the rest of us were supposed to just put the hell up with it!”

                “You said you didn’t care!” Brad was furious.

                “I LIED!” Yuuji retorted. 

                Somehow in the next five seconds, he ended upon his ass in the hallway of the expensive apartment building, with his ears ringing from the door slamming.  He checked himself to make sure he wasn’t just in shock and not feeling any damage that had occurred. 

               

                Brad forced himself to calm down, firmly reminding himself that losing one's temper was losing control of the situation, and thus the battle.  Then he went to tap lightly on the bedroom door.  It was locked.  Ridiculous of course, but the symbolism was there. 

                “Is he dead yet?” Schuldig yelled, avoiding mental contact.

                “You know that won’t solve this problem.”

                “It would for me!”

                “Schuldig—open the door so I don’t have to kick it in.”  Also symbolic, but he knew how much Schuldig appreciated drama.

                He counted to ten, which was about the time it took for the vision he had to play out, and Schuldig opened the door a crack, peeping out at him. 

“You’re an idiot,” Schuldig said quietly.

“It must have something to do with the constant assault on my sanity around here,” Brad said. “Did you influence Fujimiya?”

“No, but I should have,” Schuldig said honestly.  “I never even thought of that.”

“Schuldig, I have to tell you, Yuuji and I have had these fights before.  It blows over, and things go back to what passes for normal.”

“You’re going to let him get away with it!”

Brad frowned and nodded his head to one side in a sort of reluctant shrug, “Unfortunately, yes, I can see that happening.  We need him working Weiss for us to succeed.  And he’s such a—well, I shouldn’t have to tell you that.  After all, you’ve been in his mind.” He looked back at the one gorgeous tiffany blue eye he could see.  “Remember that I fudged that report for you when you failed to blow up Fujimiya along with his parents, and we’ll let it drop there.”

"Fucking karma," Schuldig frowned.  “I could go shoot him now, if it will make you happy," he said, contrite.

“That would make it far too easy for Yuuji.  Guilt isn't one of his strong skills,” Brad pushed open the door, tired of waiting.  He pulled Schuldig into his arms and held him.  “I have to let things stand as they are for now.  You’re here, and he’s not.  Esset kept him away from me, and you right next to me.  It’s the way things are, it’s what we get used to,” he ran his hands up Schuldig’s back to take him by the shoulders and then stepped back to look at him.  “I have to forgive him.  You’ll see why.”

“I should break up with you,” Schuldig stated.  “I really should just leave.”

Brad caught a lock of red hair in his fingers and held tight.  “Where would you go?  There isn’t anywhere I couldn’t find you.  And what would you do on your own?  Do you think I’d let you end up roaming the streets, lost in hundreds of minds?  No, my dear, you stay where you belong,” he kissed him. 

/I hate you./ Telepaths always have the advantage of being able to have their cake and bitch at it, too. 

Brad laughed, unable to keep his mind on the kiss.  “You’re so you,” he kissed Schuldig’s cheek and then nuzzled his temple.  “Forgive me, or I’ll making your life a living hell,” he murmured.  

“What would be the difference?” Schuldig pulled at the knot on his tie.

Brad kissed him on the forehead and drew him over to the bed. “It won’t feel as good the other way.”

               

*    *    *

 

                Yuuji drove around for a while, considering the situation he’d inadvertently gotten himself into.  Certainly he could have said no to Aya.  Unfortunately, he knew Aya.  Aya was nuts.  Aya threw katanas at helicopters.  Aya tried to kill Ken just for—well, being Ken.  Aya could turn Omi into an anorexic zombie with just his death glare because Aya now knew the kid was a Takatori. 

And thinking about what had happened was not doing him any damned good.  Aya was also hot.  That was undeniable.  Unfortunately, so were stoves, branding irons, phosphate grenades and boiling oil—all potential things Brad might use on him if he didn’t find a way to fix this. 

To focus on the problem, Brad was pissed.  Again.  This had happened before; his memory was quite clear on that.  But everyone banged Silvia, it was practically a requirement at Rozenkreuz.  Pass the ‘political economics’ exam (break in, crack a safe, get the answers), score at least 95 on the shooting range, avoid getting killed in terminals week (literally, _terminals_ week), and bang Silvia.  (Everyone also agreed on one thing: Silvia was something akin to a wet noodle in the sack. Then again, she’d been furious to find out the senior classmen had voted a hot pink silicone wank off tube Home Coming Queen over her at Senior Prom.)

He’d wheedled his way back into Brad’s arms quite a few times before, but this might as well have been a bullet to his head.  He frowned and tried to come up with something. 

But he had to go ‘home’ as well. 

And Aya would be there. 

And he had to live with Aya for Esset only knew how long. 

And Brad was going to kill him, if Aya didn’t. 

He found himself parking at the lot overlooking the harbor and got out to shove a few coins in the meter. 

The sun was setting and looked incredible.  How the hell could such beauty shine on such a crappy day.  He leaned on the railing and watched the color streaks fade into deep blue, then black. 

His cell phone buzzed.  He sighed and took it out, looking at the caller ID.  The shop phone.  He dreaded this.  “Hello.”

“Where are you?” Aya growled.

“Aya, we have to talk,” Yuuji switched into cover mode.  “I don’t want you to take this badly, but what you did—was---well, you know what it was.  Are you feeling okay?  I mean, that just came completely out of nowhere, and I—I just don’t feel right about that.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“You had your bare naked ass all over my cock, Aya.  We’re both guys here, I think you _know_ what that means,” Yohji hissed. 

“I just wanted to—,” Aya fell silent.  “I just—.” 

Yohji waited patiently.

“Are you angry with me,” Aya said softly.

“I’m too freaked out to be angry,” Yohji told him.  “Aya, you know me, I don’t—do that with guys.” ( LIAR, LIAR! his conscious mocked him.  Shut up, he told it.)

“Yohji….”

Yohji let the silence do the work.  He would listen, but Aya had to be the one feeling guilty now.  After all, he was the one that had instigated the situation.  The burden was rightly his.

“You knew what you were doing!"

“Gay guys don’t exactly have the monopoly on anal sex,” Yohji replied.  “You started to say something.  You just wanted?”

Aya sighed.  “You’re always teasing me—I just thought—it was something it obviously wasn’t.”

“Look,  I don’t want you to think that I would just use you like that.  You’re a team mate.  I respect and depend on you, I don’t care if you’re gay.  I just—don’t know what to say, Aya.”

“It won’t happen again,” Aya said and the call was cut. 

Yohji let out a long slow exhale.   

                Now he had to prove to Brad he was at least going to be professional.  If Aya wasn’t waiting at home for him with that katana out.


	3. Three

Takatori was working himself into a permanent rage over Asami Ryuuichi’s existence. Brad could see that it was becoming an obsession.  Takatori wanted everything they could get on the man, having him followed, and harassing the Tokyo Chief of Police, his own despised younger brother, to investigate the man formally.  The more people that looked into Asami’s life, the more the timelines around him became confused and Brad was having a problem sorting them out.  Having to learn to use the full range of his talent after it had been suppressed for the past nine years wasn’t something that was going to happen over night.  The headaches, the vertigo, and the day to day stress weren’t exactly smoothing the way, either. 

            Frankly, if Yuuji was going to be a problem….

            Brad had begun to take a good look at why he had put up with the relationship in the first place.  After graduation, he hadn’t had to deal with Yuuji for more than a day or two at a time, over months and years.  Before that, Yuuji’s popularity made things—difficult.  Rosenkruz didn’t exactly come out and say it, but the general opinion was that gay talent didn’t breed, not without ‘assistance’. Obvious relationships were broken up with assignments that were intended to make them regret their behavior.  And if that didn't work, the tasers came out.  With Yuuji’s schedule, it had been easy enough to convince himself that the heart did indeed with absence grow fonder.  Or was he now trying to convince himself to cut off the relationship entirely? 

          Based on what?  Schuldig was put out, his territory invaded.  Yuuji, off balance, had slipped because of a direct assault on his libido.  Okay, so he was under cover, and not exactly wearing a sign saying ‘Hands Off’.  The next time Brad caught Fujimiya in a fight he was going to make certain it hurt.  A nice little beating, and maybe breaking that nose would do.  Even if the brat didn’t know what he was being punished for.  He made a note to add a good roundhouse kick in the nuts for emphasis.  Fujimiya might be slated to stay alive, but that didn’t mean he needed  a functioning scrotum. 

          ‘And why am I suddenly so possessive?’ Brad wondered.  Alright, so cutting off Yuuji was out of the question. 

          “I want him to know who brought him down!” Takatori was ranting, smacking his fist on his desk. 

           Brad looked brilliantly attentive, hand clasped to wrist behind his back, heels together, leaning slightly forward, alert, riveted as if to obey any sudden orders given.   They always fell for that one.   Actually, he was wondering if that Indian restaurant would be able to do quite as good a lunch as they had a few weeks ago.  He was rather craving the chicken tandori set.  “Yes, Mister Takatori,” he threw in for good measure. 

 

*      *      *

 

          Asami sneezed, adding to his irritations.  “I know this isn’t the bubble era any more, but there’s something wrong with these books,” he shoved the ledger at the tall, thin spectacled man, his immediate lieutenant.  “The money isn’t adding up to the amounts consistent with that club’s client traffic.  We don’t sell bottled water or tea.  Either people aren’t buying the same amounts of liquor, or someone’s skimming.  See to it. Where is Liu-san?” Asami blew his nose on a tissue, disposed of it and took out another cigarette to light.  

          “Having a fight with the social grace sensei,” Takeda, the thin man in glasses answered calmly.  “Shiro-kun is making sure no one gets hurt.”

                “Who’s winning?”

                “Liu-san complains loudly while doing as he’s told, so I assume you are.”

                Asami smirked, giving his aid a side long look.  “You disapprove?”

                “I know you.  But what will people think,” Takeda pushed his glasses up. 

Asami leaned back, rocking the swivel chair from side to side,  and watched an exhalation of smoke rise up in swirls across his panoramic view of the city.  “I’ve reached that point that if one doesn’t do something people don’t approve of, and get away with it without holding a gun to their heads, one has not arrived at.”

          “Then I think you’re likely to lose your balls,” was Takeda’s opinion.       

          Asami smirked.  “Think of how much more dangerous he will be to our enemies,” he looked up at the man. 

                “Something about ladies, smiles and tigers comes to mind,” Takeda frowned slightly.  “She ended up inside the tiger.”

          “Not being a lady, I’ll slap the tiger silly,” Asami said, growing irritated.  “Anything else to plague me with?”

                “That politician, Takatori Reiji has you on his shit list,”     

                Asami quirked an eyebrow. “Really?” he stubbed out the remainder of the cigarette.  “Rather a stupid move on his part.  Takatori.  Any relation to that head of the Tokyo P.D.?”

                “Older brother.  However, it’s known he and the younger don’t get along.”

                “Seems to me the younger was being investigated for funneling police funds into private projects?  Something about a vigilante force?”

                “The records were shown to be a forgery.”

                “I wonder who would know the difference between the real ones and a forgery?”

                Takeda made a disparaging noise.  “Politics.”

                “They certainly take the long way around to stab someone in the back.  He’s perfectly welcome to pay me off with favors and large donations to my favorite charity.”

                “Some people are just stingy,” Takeda looked at his watch.  “I’ll be going now.  The warehouse thing should be concluded in about an hour.”

                Asami nodded.  Just enough time to check on how Fei-Long was dealing with learning to wear a formal hakama and how to behave properly in Japanese society.

 

*      *     *

 

                It had been a rather quiet week, excluding the thing getting lose from Masafumi’s lab, but that barely touched Schwarz.  Brad made up his mind what to do about Takatori’s fixation.

                “I’m still mad at you,” he informed Yuuji in German, who had shown up dressed to impress with his tightly muscled stomach showing and his hair freshly conditioned in an artful disarray that must have taken him some time to achieve. 

                Yuuji tossed his expensive sunglasses on the café table and slouched in his chair.  “I tried,” he sighed heavily, then gave a friendly sweep of inviting eyes over Schuldig, throwing a memory at him, in case he was looking.

                Schuldig remained in a sulk, barricades up. 

                Yuuji dropped the sex god act and was all business.  “Alright, what’s up.”

                “Takatori has a permanent boner for Asami Ryuuchii.  He’s been nagging his brother, the head cop, to do something about it.  Any word on that front?”

                “Not a thing,” Yuuji ordered an imported beer from the waitress, careful not to show her any interest in front of the other two men; though she was quite cute and obviously thrilled to have such a gorgeous set of guests to serve. “I did nearly get killed by a sort of gorilla-spider-whats-its monster thing.” He shrugged down the thin shirt jacket he was wearing to expose a bandage.  “You could give me some sympathy points, Brad.”

                “Fuck you,” Brad stated.  “As far as I can find out, Asami hasn’t done anything that can actually be pinned on him, so the police will have to work around him.  If you can’t get all of Weiss on his tail, do it yourself.”

                Yuuji pulled his jacket back up and had a long swallow of the beer the waitress had brought. He gave the man a serious look. “You  know, as far as I recall, I’m no longer employed by Esset.  Being dead and all.”

                Brad had to fight the urge to snort.  After all, no one was ever let go or fired from Esset’s clutches.  The only way out was literally death.  He forced himself not to fall for it, smothering the silly grin his inner self was gleefully sporting.  Yuuji had rather artlessly achieved what _he_ could still only hope for, the bastard.  “And?”

                Yuuji plunked his bottle down and looked at him squarely.  “You’re not the boss of me.”

                “And I could easily arrange for you to lose your present employment, too.”

                “Then I’d just have to get back at you by doing exactly the same thing that got us in this mess in the first place!” Yuuji raised his voice a little.  “You could say PLEASE just once in your life!”

                Brad refused to say please, yet again.  He shoved his glasses up and drank his own beer. 

               “This is really funny,” Schuldig was enjoying the glare fest.  “You do realize you’re both acting like middle school kids.  Of course with guns and knives and so forth, but really, it’s funny as hell.”

                “How much?” Brad growled through clenched teeth.

                “Dinner and dancing,” Yuuji said. 

                “No!” Brad was offended.  “Do business properly!”

                “No,” Yuuji stated.  “Since our relationship is now purely personal, I refuse to do business.  You either kiss and make up, or fuck you and Esset’s agenda.”

                “Must you always make everything about sex!”

                “Well, yes,” Yuuji said as if Brad were the stupidest man on the planet.  “What damage have you taken lately?  We agreed, remember?  It was all about sex, not sentimentality,” he wiped his hand in the air as if to dismiss said emotion. "Mister 'love is a useless emotion'."

                Schuldig was watching them like someone at a tennis game.  Now he looked at Brad to see the little vein in his temple throbbing.  Someone was going to get it.  Brad hated being reminded of something he was so smug about at the time when it was a weapon against him later. 

                “Schuldig will decide,” Brad stated.

                Said redhead was suddenly in the headlights of coming bullet trains. “ _What?  Me? Why?”_ he protested. 

                Brad refused to look at either of them, incredibly pissed.

                “Oh, sure, delegate,” Yuuji accused. 

                “You’ll have to accept cash,” Schuldig said firmly. 

                “Doggy style with a blow job,” Yuuji stated.

                Brad glared at him. 

                “Now I want to forgive him,” Schuldig muttered.

                Brad glared at HIM.

                “What _is_ the problem with Asami Ryuuichi, anyway?” Yuuji asked, in a sulk now.

                “Will you do the job or not?” Brad said.

                “Pay up first,” Yuuji stood his ground.

                “Don’t be ridiculous!”

                “Me ridiculous?  Who’s turning down this?” the blond swept a hand at himself.  “If you’re so mad about Fujimiya sideswiping me, do something about it.  I’m starting to fantasize about that ass of his from lack of affection.  You want anything from me, you remind me whose bitch I’m supposed to be.”

                Schuldig snorted and sipped his beer.  /He’s got you there.  Say something cool and calculated, I dare you/

                /Shut the hell up!/ Brad ordered.

                 /Oh, did I think that out loud, my bad/ Schuldig smirked. 

                “You ever touch Fujimiya again, I’ll wring your neck with your own wire!” Brad threatened.

                /And it’s out./ Schuldig thought, and looked at Yuuji to see how he’d respond to the serve.

                “Say you adore me and you’ll make me the happiest man on earth,” Yuuji challenged with no lack of sarcasm. 

                “Now you can go fuck yourself,” Brad retorted. 

                “I’m getting a little tired of that, it’s no fun alone.  Either put out, or I’m walking,” he picked up his glasses and tucked them in the jacket's top pocket. 

                “Sarazawa,” Brad said.

                Yuuji waited, focused on him. 

                “Why do you expect me to be lenient with you?”

                “I told you, you piss me off.  You expect me to just accept _this_ ,” he indicated Schuldig.  “Nothing personal.”

                “Oh, I’ll remember that,” Schuldig said, meaning something completely different.

                Brad looked like he was about to throw a tantrum.  Except that he was in public, very public, a sidewalk café in the middle of Roppongi was very public, his conscious informed him, in a good imitation of a certain German.  He let it go and sighed.  “Your apology is accepted.  On the basis that it never happen again.”

                “Cross my heart,” Yuuji made the gesture.  He didn’t sound the least repentant about it, he was so miffed now.  “You want to get a room around here somewhere, or go back to your place?”

                “What? No!” Brad said.  “This was supposed to be a _lunch_ meeting!  I do have a job to attend to, you know!”

                “I don’t work for free,” Yuuji remained obstinate.

                “You are driving me insane!” Brad exclaimed.

                “People are staring,” Schuldig said, smiling and sipping his beer.  “And while we are foreigners speaking German and obviously can get away with it, I’d rather not have to listen to what they are all _thinking_ about us god-awful foreigners right now.  Can we please wrap this up?”             

                “Apologize to him,” Brad pointed at Schuldig, looking at Yuuji.

                “Don’t drag me into this again,” Schuldig said.

                “You’re the elephant in the room,” Brad informed him. 

                “Ach, mein Gott!  You’ve done it now!  Did you not just call me fat!” Schuldig demanded, slapping his palm down on the table.

                Brad took his glasses off and put his face in his hands, his elbows on the table.

                Schuldig glared at Yuuji.               

 

                *      *     * 

               

                 “That was just wrong,” Schuldig said when Yuuji had left the hotel room. 

                “But hot,” Brad said, still impressed by that last orgasm he’d experienced. 

                “Very hot,” Schuldig attempted to get off the bed, but at the moment, he couldn’t find his body below his neck.  It was just numb all over from exertion.  “Now I know what they mean by ‘six ways from Sunday’.”

                “I believe that was actually seven,” Brad said.  "And it's only Thursday.  I don't think I'd have survived Sunday."

                “Only you would count. Stop bragging.  How can he walk?” Schuldig struggled to sit up, then gave up and flopped back down.

                Brad snickered.  “But did you see how funny he was walking?”

                Schuldig snorted and rolled over to throw an arm across him, giggling.

                Brad hugged him and slid his hand down to pat him on the butt.  “Seriously, you do make an excellent sex toy.”

                “I’ll add it to my resume,” Schuldig was still a little miffed over that. 

                “He’s just jealous,” Brad moved his hand again to stroke Schuldig’s long red hair. 

                “Don’t be so damned smug,” Schuldig warned. 

                “Well, he’s Asami’s problem for now,” Brad concluded.  “That should keep him busy for a while.”

               


	4. Four

On the roof top across from Asami's building, Yuuji frowned, wondering how these things managed to happen.  How often on a stake out were the people doing the watching being watched? 

                The young man, who looked from here not to be much more than a teenager (but then seventeen year old Omi looked like a grade school kid) was spying on Asami’s office window with a long lens camera, _and_ what looked to be a small portable listening device.  The kind you could aim at a window and even if it were closed, the glass would amplify the sound of people speaking inside.   That is, if you weren’t in one of the newer high tech office buildings, where the windows were purposely vibrated to prevent such spying.  Maybe Asami liked to have windows that opened, because his office actually had the older sort that cranked open and had screens, despite being modern.  The red tea color haired kid was probably getting a real earful.  And taking pictures. 

                Yuuji considered the situation.  This guy was spying on Asami.  Who was he working for? 

                He’d done his homework, asking around the bars and clubs if anyone had it out for Asami, if anyone knew anyone who had it out for him.  Most of the answers ranged from the ‘don’t get your nose cut off’ to the ‘guy’s Teflon’ variety.  Whatever else Asami had going for him, he was doing it the ‘honest’ way, not stepping on anyone else’s toes, paying respect, keeping his sleeve cuffs clean and in sight.

So who was the skinny kid with the camera and the big ear working for? 

                He decided to trail the kid. 

 

*     *     *

 

                Brad read his report at the restaurant while waiting for his prime rib steak to be delivered medium rare.   

Yuuji was pretty sure that the only people who might see him hanging out in over priced restaurants in Roppongi either weren’t working for Kritiker or deserved to be fired for wasting money.  Still, he dressed extra nice in a sleek suit, switching brown contacts for the sunglasses. He had also taken the precaution of running dark brown temporary dye through his hair, while taking on the body language of a man more at ease with wealth and position. And as usual, he stuck to German while talking with Brad and Schuldig.  If anyone did notice a resemblance between him and the Kudoh Yohji they knew, they’d shrug it off as impossible.  Kudoh was a walking advertisement for all that was wrong with his generation, and proud of it.  They’d be more likely to recognize him in yet another amateur porn video, if he’d done any.  Had he done any?  He frowned, and sipped his wine, thinking that one over.  There were still some serious blank spots in his memory.    

                Schuldig was giving him a smug smile from his side of the table, swirling his wine out of boredom. He’d insisted on his own bottle of white, to go with his seafood, rather than the shared red.  Or possibly just to make Brad spend more money on him.

                “I do get paid my own wage, you know,” Schuldig said to this thought.

                “Really?  I thought they just let you off the leash now and then and threw you raw meat.”

                “That would be Farfarello,” Schuldig said. 

                “I was joking,” Yuuji said.  “Stop being so hostile.”

                “If you start fighting at this table, I will walk out and leave you both to split the check,” Brad stated.

                “Kampai,” Yuuji raised his glass to Schuldig.

                “To your health,” Schuldig lifted his slightly as well before drinking.  “How is your wine?”

                “Excellent, and yours?”

                “Delightful.  Wonderful atmosphere, don’t you think?”

                “The service is very attentive.  Looks like an early fall this year, doesn’t it?”

                “Ah, but the flora and seasonal delicacies are always worth the extremes in weather here in Japan...”

                “Shut the hell up, the both of you!” Brad hissed. 

                The attempt to get along subsided into gazing around and hoping that the bottom didn’t drop out of their stomachs before the food arrived.

                Brad set the printout in its thin folder down and picked up his wine to sip, looking as if he were processing the future probabilities of what he’d just read.  He fell into focus again a few minutes later and frowned at the bare table setting.  “Damn it, I want my food.”

                “How much longer are we going to have to wait?” Schuldig asked. 

                “At least another ten minutes.  They over cooked my steak and the chef is trying to kill the grill master.”

               “Ah,” Yuuji said, manfully concealing his suffering.  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and that had been left over rice.

                “How are you getting along with Fujimiya?” Brad asked coolly, focusing on him.

                “Oh, fine,” Yuuji said.  “He’s behaving his old normal self.  Glaring at me like he wants to kill me.  Which is how he behaves to everyone, so yeah.”  Suddenly he stopped looking at Brad and stared past him.  “Holy—,” he breathed.

                Brad casually turned his head to look. 

                Asami Ryuuichi had entered the French restaurant with a tall, thin, elegant young man on his arm.

                “Wipe the look off your face, mein mann,” Schuldig said.

                “Damn,” Brad stated.

                “Never mind, I’ll wipe it off for you,” Schuldig hissed. 

                It was pretty much the same look every one, man and woman, in the place was trying not to let stay stuck to his face, especially those there with dates who could pull the financial rug out from under them.

                Asami, the bastard, looked like he could care less who’s hand he had tucked into his arm, let alone the long legged, long haired asian beauty in the black-plum silk designer suit, its subtle shimmer perfectly matching that long perfectly oiled hair.

                There was a mild scramble as one of the older gentleman on the other side of the room fumbled his heart medication bottle and nearly died because of it.

                “So that’s why we’re here, despite your bitching about the cost the last time I asked.” Schuldig kicked Brad’s ankle under the table. 

                Brad tried to push his glasses up, then remember that, he too, was wearing contacts for the evening.  He coughed and had a swallow of wine.  “Yes.  That and it's business, so Takatori is catching the bill.” 

                “You’re terrible,” Yuuji informed him. 

                Asami’s body guards pulled out chairs, seated Asami and the godling and withdrew, presumable to somewhere unobtrusive where they could shoot anyone who bothered the boss and his date.

                “That’s Liu Fei Long?” Brad said, unable to hide the continuing shock.  “Head of the emerging most powerful hatchet gang in Hong Kong?”

                “Oh, yes,” Yuuji growled like a tiger.  “I’m feeling over powered and  insignificant, aren’t you?”

                “I could gut shoot Asami here and now,” Brad stated.

                “Don’t mind me,” Schuldig said sweetly.  Then added, “You have to sleep sometime.”

                Brad cleared his throat again and the food finally arrived, to save him long enough to think of something to undo the nasty bear trap he’d just got his balls caught in.  “You know I don’t like that sort of thing.” His hand disappeared below the table level and he sat back a little further in his chair, shifting something..

                “Oh no, of course not,” Schuldig glared at him narrow eyed and stabbed his fork into his pasta. 

                “You _did_ , didn’t you?” Yuuji suddenly looked at Brad. 

                “Don’t you start,” Brad warned.  “I don't have to drop my fork to see you’re hard as a brick.”

                Yuuji looked uncomfortable and squirmed in his chair unsuccessfully.  “That’s not the problem here.”

                “No, it isn’t,” Brad stated, hacking into his perfectly tender steak with unnecessary force.

                “So,” Yuuji became a co-conspirator in changing the subject due to blackmail.  “What do you make of this Takaba Akihito?”

                “It looks to me like Kritiker needs to take another look at that department of the Tokyo police force,” Brad said, completely ignoring the death glare Schuldig was giving him.  (Which Yuuji thought might have been borrowed directly from one of Aya’s collection, filed under ‘impending disembowelment’.)  “This guy is being played like bait.”

                “Should I do something about him?” Yuuji asked. 

                Brad checked the timelines, and frowned.  “He could really fuck up our plans.  Something has already changed in the timelines rippling off him.  Whatever it was, he’s got major bad luck.  Get him out of the picture. Not necessarily dead, just gone.”

                “Why not dead?” Schuldig asked, distracted from being pissed off.  Curiosity always got the better of him. 

                “Because,” Brad said. And that was that.

                Schuldig gave up being annoyed to enjoy his seafood pasta, which was really quite nice and fresh. 

 

                Fei-Long gave a startled little twitch, and brushed a hand past his ear, which Asami noticed.  “Something wrong?”

                “Just a sort of stray thought,” Fei-long covered up for the consternation in his mind.  He could have sworn someone had just hissed “BITCH!” in his ear, while no one was within five feet of him and the people at the next table were discussing a construction lawsuit.  “I’ve been away from Hong Kong too long and it’s preying on my mind."

                “The wine will loosen you up,” Asami said.  He noted the trio at the table in the left back corner of the dining room.  They looked out of place in this crowd of old money and foreign diplomats. “I wonder who those three are.”

                Fei-Long looked.  “Foreigners,” he dismissed.

                “Russian maybe?” Asami said. 

                “Not any that I’ve seen,” Fei-long took the menu away that the waiter had seen fit only to give to Asami. 

                “Mind your manners,” Asami said.

                “Or you’ll what? Spank me?” Fei-long countered.  “I’ll chose my own food.”

                “You’re embarrassing me,” Asami growled.

                “Oh stuff it, no one’s looking at you,” Fei-long considered the lobster pilaf.  “Oh, I get it, it’s fried rice,” he was pleased.  “That and a double pile of garlic toast,” he pointed it out and then handed it back.  “And order me some real beer, not that Japanese piss.”

                “They don’t serve beer here,” Asami informed him, trying not to clutch the menu so tightly he crumpled it, plastic slip case and all. 

                “Then send the muscle bound one out for it,” Fei-long told him. 

                “No,” Asami stated.  “You’re getting wine or water and liking it.”

                Fei-long frowned, lightening flashing in his eyes.

               A guy at the next table who had experience with this sort of thing held his breath.  Suddenly he felt sorry for Asami, despite the guy being a rabid shark when it came to business. 

                But the storm passed and Fei-long decided to look utterly bored, planning the ruin of the evening. 

                The waiter, who had been keeping an eye on that table hurried out with unusual attentiveness to snag the offending menu back and convey the order to the kitchen.  He knew a plate thrower when he saw one. 

               

                Schuldig was now smiling happily to himself with that look Brad knew meant he’d done something, was doing something, or was going to do something to some poor fool.  “What are you up to?”

                “Nothing,” Schuldig said.

                Brad kept him skewered with that disapproving look. 

Schuldig looked up from his plate.  “What?” he did the innocent look thing.

                “Why are you practically levitating with glee?”

                “Asami’s in his own little Hell,” Schuldig smiled, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

                Yuuji sighed in resignation. “As suspected.” He poured himself some more wine.

                Schuldig picked up his own glass and sipped from it.  “You should know that feeling, Bradley.  After all, you’ve built your own as well.”

                “Stop reminding me, you devil,” Brad said, with reluctant fondness.

                “That’s me, Satan’s little helper,” Schuldig smiled again.  “So how are we getting rid of Aki-whosits?”

                “I’ll come up with something,” Yuuji said.  “As soon as I trace that police detective back to his connections and find out if I’m crossing Kritiker’s path first.”

                “Just be quick about it,” Brad told him.  

               

*     *     *

               

               “Shit,” Asami said later that afternoon, grabbing the remote and putting the office TV on zoom. 

                Now he knew where he had seen at least one of those guys from the restaurant.  The one with the glasses was behind Takatori Reiji.  “Takeda!”

                The man hurried in, wondering what the hell he’d been bellowed at like that for.  “Yes, Sir?”

                “You see that man in the glasses behind that fat ass of a politician?”

                “Yes?”

                “I want everything on him you can get,” Asami stated.  Something about that guy had stuck with him, bothering him.  It was a feeling he hadn’t had in ten years.  The one that said trouble was on its way.  Takatori was chasing him down, this guy had shown up in a few places he’d been, and he could have sworn he’d seen the red headed devil hanging around, too. He couldn’t figure why he was just realizing it now. “Him and that demon I’ve seen him with.”


	5. Five

                Aya slammed the phone down after snarling at a customer and went back to the arrangement he was working on.  Yohji sighed and parked the broom, then turned, hands on his hips.  “Enough is enough.  How long are you going to try to hate me to death?”

                “I don’t hate you,” Aya stated. 

                “Fine, then tell me what’s bugging you, because I’ve been getting a wave of hostility off you since ‘that’ happened and it’s making me jumpy as hell, because we all know you have that huge freaking sword!” Yohji found his voice rising with irritation. 

                “You’ve changed,” Aya said.  “Quitting smoking doesn’t cover it all.  You don’t sit in your room and get drunk any more.  You don’t have nightmares any more.  And when you do go out drinking and—and whatever, you don’t come staggering in any more.  You sneak in, and I would swear, you are more sober than when you left!”

                Yohji frowned.  “I threw a lot of baggage in the trash when I took off like that, Aya.  I got my head straight after seeing the doc, okay?  What do you want, the old me back?”  Had he really been slipping that much? Was he really that out of practice?  The panic was mild, but panic was panic.  Was he on the verge of blowing his cover?  Had he been here too long?  Was the wolf becoming a sheepdog?

                Aya looked sullen and focused on the flowers he was almost mangling into place. 

                “Why don’t you—get a boyfriend or something?” Yohji offered, tossing his hands up in the air.  “Stop fixating on me.”

                Aya looked at him as if he’d been shot. 

                ‘Whoops’ Yuuji thought.  Nice going, Kudoh.  “Listen Aya,” he went into damage control mode. “Go out, have some fun.  Meet people.  Don’t fall in love with me,” he said softly at last.  “We’re not goldfish in a bowl here.  You can meet other people.  Better people than me.” 

                “I just want to know if you’re okay,” Aya was crying now, not openly, but moisture was leaking, and he wasn’t doing much to cover it up other than wiping at his eyes and swallowing hard. 

                “I’m okay,” Yohji slipped back into place.  “Look, when Ken gets back from soccer, get yourself together and I’ll show you around a few clubs.  I know women, and women know gay guys.  We’ll find some guys for you to try.”

                “I’m not that desperate!” Aya shouted at him, fists clenched.

                “Oh, really?” Yohji said, putting his hands back on his hips.  “That’s why you’re screeching at me over a suggestion that I help you find someone just because I don’t want you to be—you know, sort of uncomfortable with me now.  And when the hell was the last time you went dancing and had a laugh?  You really think your parents and your sister would like seeing you acting like the living dead?  I don’t.  Offer’s on the table, Aya, take it or leave it.”

                Aya wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and scowled at him.  “I’ll think about it,” he stated, and picked up a flower, then looked at its bruised leaves and threw it away in frustration. 

                “Come on, Aya, you’re—you know, pretty.  I’m sure there are a lot of guys out there who would be thrilled to the bone just to have you say hi to them.”

                “Don’t you mean boner?” Aya said snidely.

                “I should hope so!  You need to get laid more often, and you’re not the only one around here who thinks that,” Yohji grinned at him, merciless. 

                Aya threw the trimming sheers at him. 

                Yohji ducked and laughed, “Come on Aya, let’s see what’s out there.  Unless you want to date Ken.”

                “Die!” Aya yelled at him.

               

*      *     *            

 

                Bingo.  Takaba Akihito.  Yohji was pretty sure he’d have to hit the bars and club scenes somewhere; after all, he was young, and male.  He was at a table with a couple of other guys around his age, talking loud and being guys. 

                But not the sort Aya was in need of. 

                Yohji had pulled some strings, chanced getting yelled at and hung up on, and had a list they were going down in a series of mini meet ups.  Aya seemed to be just fine with Yohji being his usual pushy, help everyone self and choosing where they would go.  Yohji’s dating pool was full of fish still hoping for a rematch, and more than willing to show up with a friend in tow.  It didn’t hurt that he’d forced Aya to hold still for a photo he could send round in messages without the receiver feeling like they'd been cursed by something dark and ominous that would probably drive them insane before killing them and dragging them into the attic to rot for the next innocent tenants to find. (Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but Aya did have that scowl of death thing down pat).

                Reiko-chan showed up with a guy from work who looked like he’d like to just die, but was being dragged along anyway, and practically threw him at Aya so she could corner Yohji and start chatting him up about his life lately.  Now he remembered why he’d been avoiding her.  She was like one of those anime characters that had wedding rings and balls and chains reflecting in her eyes when she focused on him. 

                Ten minutes of that and he not only wanted to get the hell away from her, but had figured out a way to get rid of Takaba. 

                Aya’s ‘date’ was a brand new detective, still wet behind the ears, and just as shy as Aya.  Somehow the topic of halting and incoherent conversation was how N.E.E.T.s had recently been disappearing all over the city. Actually leaving their rooms and computers and just disappearing.  Yohji realized that Omi had been saying something similar the other evening, too.  The chat rooms were full of how some guy had been setting up a sort of hostel for N.E.E.T.s who had had it with their nagging families, and was offering to take them in and give them work test playing games or something. 

                “Aren’t they cute together?” Reiko said, snuggling her boobs against Yohji’s arm, clinging to him in the booth.  “Why don’t we go somewhere else and leave them to it?”

                Yohji blinked and looked at her.   Hmm.  Yeah.  Easier to lose her at another club and slip off to find this N.E.E.T.-napper.  Aya wasn’t the only one being set up with a date. 

 

*        *       *

               

                “I need to borrow Schuldig,” Yuuji said in the little snack bar he’d arranged the emergency meet up with Brad in. 

                Crawford gave him a look. 

                “For a precog, you sure like to make a guy feel like he’s suspected of something other than what he had innocently in mind,” Yuuji complained. 

                “Why do you reek of women's perfume this early in the evening?”

                “I just ditched a date.  Long story short, I’ve been trailing this Takaba guy, and I think I’ve found a way to get rid of him, not kill him, just like you said,” he dug the last words in as a reminder, unaware that Schuldig often used the same words and tone on Brad as well.

                “How?”

                “Who are you?” Yuuji asked flatly.

                “Talent’s acting up,” Brad said.  “Long term, I’m either getting too much or nothing lately between headaches.  Last night was one long nightmare.  Just answer the question,” he rubbed his temple and looked at Yuuji.  “Why Schuldig?”

                “I want Schuldig to put the idea in Takaba’s head to investigate the shipping containers this Takizawa guy is going to send the ‘missing’ N.E.E.T.s off to Dubai in.” 

                “And the perfume?” Brad asked.

                “I really shouldn’t have to explain that,” Yuuji said stubbornly.

                “I think purely for conversation’s sake an innocent man would,” Brad countered.  “Not act suspiciously reticent to discuss it.”

                “I multitasked,” Yuuji said.  “Aya was getting on my nerves and I counter attacked.  I called up some of the women in Kudoh's ‘little black book’ and asked them to find him a guy.  We go out, meeting up with the poor suckers, just by coincidence, in the same places Takaba has been frequenting in his off hours and shooting his mouth off in.  You were right, he’s not a threat, just an ambitious reporter.  I wanted to get away from Aya to get here, so I agreed with the fembot to leave the happy couple alone and go bar hopping.  It wasn’t difficult to slip her a tranquilizer.  Aya’s probably still sitting there at the first place, trading blushes with the guy she came up with, and thinks I’m off getting laid.  Maybe it will even make him more determined to get some action himself.  You don’t suppose I could by the way?  Get laid?”

                “That can’t be as ridiculous as it sounds,” Brad picked up his beer.

                “I’m wounded,” Yuuji said.

                “Not that.  The part about the dating and the N.E.E.T.s being shipped off to Dubai.  As for the other, I’m really not up to it tonight.  I’ll let you borrow Schuldig on the condition that it’s strictly business.  You keep your hands to yourself and have him home by midnight.”

                Yuuji had an evil thought.  Why not set Schuldig up with Aya?  No, it would never work. For one thing, the guy was addicted to Brad.  That and wasn’t there a physics law about two evil tempered red heads in the same space destroying the universe?  Such was life.  He sighed and drank his own beer.  “Don’t you trust me?” he asked soulfully.

                “No,” Brad said. 

                Yuuji leaned on the table to talk more quietly under the noise in the street as a black clad motorcyclist with cat ear vents on her helmet roared by.  “You know, you have to get over that knee jerk reaction.  I’m not working for Esset any more, remember?”

                Brad looked at him.  “When this is over, you’ll understand.”

                “You look adorable when you’re being inscrutable.”

                Brad ignored that and pulled out his phone to call Schuldig. 

                Yuuji sighed and sat back.  Obviously, he was losing his touch. 

                And then it occurred to him that the whole thing with Brad Crawford was that he _didn’t_ cling, he didn’t give an inch without demanding a mile for it first, and when anyone else would be roped in and secure, Brad was still fancy free just out of reach.  ‘Am I really that pathetic?  Is it all about wanting what I can’t have?’ 

                Brad closed his phone and tucked it away.  “Be at the little shrine in Shinjuku at 7 pm.”

                “I just hope Takizawa stays put.  He’s spending money like the tap’s turned on.  It’s a wonder I’m not going nuts trying to sort it all out.  You couldn't make this stuff up. There’s just too much going on in this city.”

                “Try being a precognitive.”

                “You look tired,” Yuuji said.  “Hell, we all look tired.  Why don’t we just ditch everything for a day or two and head down to Okinawa for some sun and surf.”

                Brad shook his head in mild disbelief.  “This is a campaign, Yuuji.  One doesn’t take breaks from battles.”

                “You’re that high up now?”

                Brad smirked.  “I’m that high up now.  The Elders themselves are watching my every move.  So trundle your sexy ass back to your cute little flower shop and don’t be late tonight.”

                 “Did you just mock me?” Yuuji said ruefully.

                “I just mocked the hell out of you,” Brad said, getting up and taking his jacket off the back of the chair, slung it over his shoulder and then leaned with a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder to tell him.   “I’ll think about Okinawa.”

                Yuuji smiled and put his hand over the one on his shoulder and felt it slip away, leaving him to finish his beer.  

 

*          *         *

 

                Fei Long set the phone down, frowning at the difference between what he knew, the tone of voice of his lieutenant in Hong Kong, and what he had been told in so many words.  Things were piling up.  the Russians were not so much demanding a meeting, but making it very clear that if one didn’t happen soon, they were going to do something disrespectful.  Asami wanted the Russians completely out of Hong Kong, but they were the main supply line for guns through a very pro-gun control Mainland. Something had happened on the Thailand route—that resource had fallen silent for months now.  It might be the recent government upsets were causing everyone to lay low, or fate had finally caught up with the big blonde woman.  Fei-Long had no quarrel with Balalaika, but he definitely was not crazy about this Arbatov guy.  The man was too damned smug, and unlike other people, he had no reason to be. 

                And then Fei-long wondered.  Had Arbatov managed to out gun Balalaika? The last thing he wanted to do was fall under that man’s debt.  He had to get out of this crazy padded cage and find some things out for himself, damn it!  Asami was too dug in to Tokyo, thinking he could cut off whole chunks of Asia from the rest of the world and survive, but he was right about one thing.  Arbatov had made it very clear he thought Fei Long was some wilting princess to be swept up and silenced into submission from their first meeting.  He’d been put off by Fei Long’s flat out telling him he would consider the matter, when he had more facts to go with the proposal.  Showing up with roses and dressed like a prom date, ridiculous! 

                In other words, if he played the part, how much more could he find out from Arbatov?  And if he could find out something else, why not undercut Arbatov and reinforce a very useful Russian?  One who considered themselves soley an arms dealer, not a gangster out for territory. 

 

*          *         *

 

                “Has he been eating well?” Yuuji asked in the car.

                “Like a horse,” Schuldig said, not interested in discussing his and Brad’s private life. 

                “Is there a problem with his talent?  I’m not around him day to day, but I’ve seen what can happen when you A-level talents start having difficulties.  I just don’t want to find out that Esset has suddenly called him back in.”

                Schuldig frowned at him.  “What part of my not wanting to talk about such things, particularly with you,  is not clear to you?  Aren’t you Japanese supposed to have ‘hara’ or whatever? That nice little social trick that makes you all able to understand things without people going on and on and on about them?”

                “You’re stressed over it, too, then,” Yuuji said ruefully.   

                “Do not cozy up to me or attempt to bond with me over Brad’s head,” Schuldig warned. “If you are asking me, you don’t trust what he’s told you when you asked him.  I don’t like that.”

                “Positively panicking,” Yuuji said, watching the road carefully in this area.  Traffic could be a bit insane at this time of the evening, with the late worker’s rush hour on.  “I thought we had agreed to get along.”

                “When did we agree to anything?”

                “It must have been something I thought you mumbled with my dick in your mouth,” Yuuji stated.

                “I really, really hate you,” Schuldig said, glaring at the road ahead.

                Yuuji smiled, shifting down to stop at a light.  “Is he going to be okay?”

                “It’s just lack of practice,” Schuldig leaned his elbow on the door frame and his head on his hand.  Takaba being thick as a brick had given him a real headache.  “He’s adjusting. They’ve have him smothered down for years now.  If you bother him about it, he’ll stress even more and lock up and then Esset will come after him, so pretend nothing is wrong and it will be.”

                “It’s this whole job, isn’t it?  That’s why I always took the short term, easy goal things. Get in and get out, preferably with a bang.” He'd just blurted that out, had't he, he thought in chagrin.

                “I hate this job,” Schuldig sighed.

                Yuuji started the car forward and suddenly swerved as a car came right through the red light and spun sideways in his path  “What the fuck!” he exclaimed. 

                Schuldig looked around, trying to get a head lock on someone and find out what had happened, but two men got out of the other car and started yelling and waving their hands around and people crowded the car, too many minds asking the same question he was and he was momentarily lost in the crashing wave of questions. ‘did you see?’ ‘what happened?’ ‘who was driving?’ ‘is it a foreigner?’ ‘yakuza?’ ‘what happened?’ ‘did the car hit?’ more and more questions until he wanted to scream shut up at all of them, and put his hands to his head. 

                Yuuji didn’t even have the luxury of being in a hard top car, the Seven being open and exposed, when the guy who had been driving the other car came demanding him to explain what he had been doing. 

                Half rising in his seat, Yuuji yelled right back at him that the light was his, he was fucking driving and how drunk was the other guy!

                And then, it clicked. 

                Schuldig raised his head to warn him, but it was too late.  Yuuji slumped over on the seat after a fist connected with his jaw and at the same time, something stabbed Schuldig in the shoulder from the other side of the car.  He turned to look up at the big bleached blond man looming over him as he put a hypodermic away in his suit jacket pocket.  The man reached down to lift him out like he was a little kid or something and heaved him up over his broad shoulder.  Schuldig’s mind was going ‘what?’ ‘what?’ and he was unable to answer his own question, his body getting more and more limp and useless, and suddenly he just wanted to sleep and worry about it all later. 

                Asami's body gaurds dumped the red headed gaijin in the back seat of the BMW and got into the front seats, shut the doors and drove away just before the police showed up.  Yuuji was fighting off the effects of the knock out punch just in time to see a cop leaning over him looking puzzled.

                “Brad’s going to kill me,” he said, his mouth not quite feeling like it was working right, as he realized Schuldig was gone.  


	6. Six

                Brad had got to the hospital as fast as traffic and premonition applied to driving would allow.  “What the hell happened?”

                “Dislocated jaw,” Yuuji, who was signing himself out of the hospital, managed to say.  “I thought it was broke, but the Doc got crazy on me and insisted he could put it back.  He said there was a trick he’d been wanting to try, and when I said no, he hit me again on the other side.  Worked like a charm.” He wiggled opened his mouth and wiggled his jaw again to make sure.  “I’m not supposed to eat anything hard or open my mouth too wide for the next few days.  Kinda ruins a few things, doesn’t it?”

                Brad was itching to punch him himself.  “I’m asking you about Schuldig, Sarazawa!” he hissed.

                “Could we not say my _name_ so loud?” Yuuji grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the side entrance the ambulances used.  “Kudoh knows people around here.”

                Brad looked around.  Sure enough, a handful of nurses were eyeing them like gulls on a crab.  He frowned.  “Fine, just—tell me what the hell happened. Where is Schuldig?”

                “You really don’t know, do you?” Yuuji looked at him, perplexed.

                “Don’t make me go for your hair,” Brad stated.

                Yuuji remembered _that_ argument all too well. It had taken forever to grow back in.  He’d been afraid he was going to have a bald spot.  “A big guy, built like an American football player, and a tall, thin guy ran a red light and swerved to block my car.  They got out causing a real ruckus, really rude, in traffic, yelling, blaming me for everything and waiving their arms around.  They did a great job of distraction, you don’t expect that kind of monkey shit in Japan for crisakes.  I was so pissed, I didn’t even think they were up to anything else, screaming and yelling like that.  Gods, I’m stupid.  So the thin guy gets in my face and the next thing I know, I’m seeing stars; and the big guy has Schu tossed over his shoulder like a sack of rice.  You didn’t ‘see’ anything?”

                “I had a brief flash of a car accident.  I saw ambulance lights, and a big man with Schuldig over his shoulder.  That was all I got, and for some stupid reason, I can’t get anywhere near it again!  It’s all a blank wall!”

                Yuuji had an idea why, but he’d learned to keep his mouth shut at least sometimes.  Brad was so stressed he didn’t want to see what was going to happen.  “Brad, take a deep breath and think.  Who would want to steal Schuldig?  Not Weiss.” Or anyone basically sane, but that was the pain meds messing with his conscious.

                “Kritiker?”  Brad said.

                “I’ve never seen either of these guys before—,” he stopped and thought about it.  “Fuck—damn it!” he exploded, frightening a couple of ambulance drivers trying to have a cigarette break.  “ _Those_ assholes!”

                Brad dragged him down the drive and across the sidewalk and grass to the regular parking lot where _he'd_ parked in a no parking zone.  “What?”

                “I _have_ seen them!” Yuuji said. “Asami’s body guards.”

               

*     *    *

 

                “Keep him sedated,” Asami said, flicking the ashes off his cigarette.  He leaned over to brush the red hair out of the way and have a good look at the unconscious man.  Cute.  But a little too exotic to interest him in any way other than as a hostage.  “Strap him down.  And put some tubes in him, I don’t want a mess to deal with.”

                Fei Long’s decision to just scream until he was allowed to go back to Hong Kong long enough to deal with business had left Asami irritated to where he nearly forgot what he was planning for the gaijin working for Takatori until Shiro slung this guy down on the sofa in his office.  “Have we got a phone number?”

                “We have a phone,” Takeda took it out of his pocket and held it out like a dead mouse. 

               Asami grabbed it and opened it, looking for a contact list.  What ever the words were, despite being in the alphabet, they weren’t English.  He frowned.  Then he just pressed the call button for the last number called. 

 

*     *     *

 

                 Yuuji felt his phone vibrating and pulled it out, looking at it.  Unknown.  He frowned and answered with Brad’s eyes glaring at him.  (Please don’t let it be a woman…)

               “Yes?”

               “Do you know a long haired, red headed American?” a man’s voice on the other end that was made of smoke and whiskey asked.

                “I know a few.” Why did Japanese think all Caucasians were American?  “What’s this about?”

                “This one is in my custody and not going anywhere.  Do you know a tall foreign man with dark hair and glasses who works for Takatori Reiji, the politician?”

                Brad snatched the phone.  “What the hell have you done with him!” he snarled.

                “Ah, perfect,” Asami sounded pleased.  “You’ve been following me.  I find it irritating.”

                “If you harm him, I will hang you by your balls, Asami.”

                Yuuji winced.  Brad would do it, too.  And it wouldn't be the first time.

                “How rude of you.  I think I’ll keep him for a while, just to teach you a lesson.  If you try to get him back until I’m ready to give him back, I will kill him.  Do we understand each other?”

                Brad laughed curtly.  “Oh, I understand,” he said.  “You want me to get Takatori to back the fuck off, don’t you?”

                “Very perceptive,” Asami said.

                “You needn’t have done anything,” Brad had to bite down the urge to call Asami every name in the book and then make up a few.  “I could care less what Takatori wants, as long as he signs the paychecks.  If I had actually been interested in doing something about you, your rotting corpse would have been hauled out of the river by now.”  He hung up on the asshole, and looked at Yuuji’s bruised and swelling face.  “Narita airport.  We have to hurry. The flight’s only going to be delayed for half an hour.”

                  Precogs. Yuuji had long given up trying to make sense of their sudden direction changes or shifts in plans.  And being royally pissed off just made Brad look that much more attractive.   

 

*     *     *

 

                Fei-Long and his two body guards were waiting to board the flight to Hong Kong when Brad walked up to him, flashed an ID badge (stolen) and instructed him to come with him.     

             “Why?  What is this about?  I’ve been cleared of customs.”

                “There’s been a question raised about your visa after all, Liu-san. If you please,” he indicated a direction. 

                Frustrated by all the delays, Fei Long headed in the direction.  “I had better not miss my plane.”

                “This way, sir.  Given the information, we would like to conclude your leaving Japan as soon as possible,” Brad said smoothly, leading them to a hall way where the restrooms and staff rooms were.

                Yuuji stepped out of the Men’s room just then, and suddenly slugged the body guard on the left. Brad caught and threw the one on the right forehead first into the wall with a nasty bang of impact.  Fei Long, startled for all of three seconds, went into battle mode himself, but he found his ankle grabbed mid kick, and his left elbow hooked. He was swung around on his own momentum through the Men’s room door, where he landed butt first on the tiles.  His two body guards were thrown in one at a time, knocking him down as he tried to get up, and pinning him under their weight. 

                Yuuji bared the door.  Brad grabbed Fei Long again as he was extricating himself from the other two;  hauled him half to his feet and got an arm around his neck, using the infamous American police choke hold until Fei-Long’s brain shut down.  Fortunately, Brad’s precognition allowed him to use this move while letting go just in time to stop from actually killing anyone. When he wanted to, that is.

               The other two were knocked out and propped on toilets with their pants around their ankles.       

               Yuuji went to smooth talk his way into a wheel chair for his ‘friend who had a foot in a cast and somehow his own chair had been mislaid in baggage.’

                Yuuji’s sun glasses and Brad’s overcoat took care of the chance anyone might notice them leaving with as visual distinctive a person as Liu Fei Long. 

 

*        *        *

 

                Asami was having supper when his phone rang.  He looked at it, irritated.  He opened it and frowned.  “Yes?”

                “Let’s get down to business,” Brad said.  “You have my man.  I now have yours.”

                “What do you mean?” Asami felt that bad feeling creep up on him again and breath down his nape. 

                “Skinny Chinese, meter long hair, has a serious hicky on his lower right buttock—ring any bells?” Brad asked. 

                Asami’s fist clenched on the table.  It wasn’t that he was embarresed about the hicky, but that was beside the point.  “How the hell…!”

                “Which should teach you not to play out of your league,” Brad informed him coldly.  “And I will send your lady-boy back to you in little pieces in Chinese takeout cartons if you do not let me have my man back in one piece, unharmed, and you being extremely apologetic about it in one hour at the Odaiba side of the Rainbow bridge!”

                “Just who the hell do you think you’re dealing with?” Asami demanded. 

                “Yakuza.  But you’re dealing with someone who can crack your computers like egg shells and drain your business of every asset you have at the snap of my fingers.  I might still do it if I find out you have so much as bruised my man.”

                “Your boasting threats mean nothing,” Asami pulled himself together.  “We’ll make the exchange, but don’t waste my time with fairy tales.”

                “Tell your stooge not to give the redhead that next shot,” Brad said.  “I want him coherent when I get him back.  And by the way, I haven’t done anything to your pet wildcat but strip him, gag him and tie him up.  I thought you’d appreciate that.” He laughed softly.

                Asami heard the pips that denoted the call had been hung up and glared at his phone.  “Takeda!  Don’t give the hostage the next shot.  Get him ready to move and put him in the car.”  How the hell had the man on the phone known that?

                Takeda put the cap back on the needle. 

                 “Don’t leave it behind, we’re going to need it,” Asami said grimly.  There was something very off about all of this.  That feeling of impending doom was getting on his nerves.

 

*          *          *

 

                The bridge was fully lit with it’s multi-color changing lights.  Brad took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then looked at his watch.  Ten minutes too long, with the traffic problem that would slow Asami down clearing up. He had contemplated, then discarded telling Asami it would happen, not to give him more reason to accuse him of making things up.  Better to just add it to the time limit and be done with it, as long as Schuldig was alright.   

                Liu Fei Long was kicking in the trunk of the BMW.  Brad ignored it.  It wouldn’t be the first time.  Every time Brad got a new car, he made sure that the lights and wiring were protected by bolted on cover plates under the heavy rubber lining. 

                Yuuji had left his Lotus Seven at the Hospital.  He looked around.  The area they were parked in, while illegal, was fairly discrete with shadows.  He slipped up behind Brad’s back and put his arms around him.  “I messed up. I’m sorry.”

                Brad half turned his head, “I’m debating shooting you in the foot.”

                Yuuji thought of what Schuldig had told him, and held his tongue, though he wanted to say something about it.  “Don’t blame yourself,” was as close as he came to it.

                Brad looked at the water and put a hand over one on his waist, rubbing the thin, strong lines of muscle and bone.  “I don’t.  I blame Takatori.  I have no delusions about who’s fault all of this is.  I was simply stupid enough to go along with a distraction out of boredom.  And possibly greed.”

                “Expense accounts; the final downfall of civilization as we know it,” Yuuji said.

                Brad smiled ruefully, “You’re still an idiot.”

                “I must be,” Yuuji looked up at the lights and the brighter stars that managed to make it through the night city’s neon aura.  “Here we are on the bank of a patently romantic river at a fairly deserted time of night, and the gym bag with the ‘instant romance’ kit in it is still in the boot of the Seven.”

                “’Instant romance kit’,” Brad snorted.

                “Being prepared to improvise is the hall mark of any good field agent,” Yuuji quoted from the manual. 

                “You’re not ‘improvising’ me into a compromising position when Asami will be here any minute.”

                Yuuji sighed and unable to find any bare space to kiss above the broad shoulders, pulled up a hand to kiss.  “You’re impossible,” he murmured.

              “What is it about waiting for a kidnapping exchange that you always find an appropriate time to act inappropriately?”

                Yuuji laughed.  “We would have had so much fun together in the field.  Maybe it’s a good thing Esset didn’t assign us to work together,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

                “They have their reasons,” Brad allowed.  He wasn’t about to tell the man that he would have refused if it had been presented as possible.  Yuuji’s modus operandi didn’t mix well with his own territorial attitude.  He could barely keep himself from ripping heads off over Schuldig.  “Time to back off now.  And put that hard on somewhere less obtrusive.”

                Asami’s driver found the indicated meeting point and pulled the car up, lights off, and parked.  Brad waited patiently for them to get out of the car.  Yuuji had gone around, ready to unlock the BMW’s truck. 

                Asami got out of his car and stood there, sizing Crawford up. 

                Brad motioned to the trunk and Yuuji unlocked it, allowing Fei Long’s kicking and muffled imprecations to be heard.  “As you can see, alive and kicking.”

                “Takeda,” Asami said. 

                The tall thin man unlocked the trunk of the Lexus. 

                “He’s still groggy,” Asami said.  “But unharmed.”

                “One of your men can get Liu.  This fellow will get Schuldig,” he indicated Yuuji.

                “Shiro,” Asami said.

                Yuuji went and leaned over the trunk to have a look.  “Schuldig?” he said, patting him on the cheek.  “Shu-chan, how’s it going there?  You waking up?  You okay?” he half sang at him like a mom waking a little kid.

                “I’m going to kill you,” Schuldig said groggily.

                “No you’re not, we’re rescuing you.  Try to act all cool and nonchalant about it.”

              “Fuck you,” Schuldig couldn’t get hold of his muscles to make them move.  He sort of squirmed helplessly.  “Damn!”

                “I’m resisting the urge to tickle you, now pull yourself together.”

                Liu Fei-Long, on the other hand, was raising hell as Shiro lifted him out of the trunk and slung him up on his shoulder as easily as he had Schuldig.  The man looked like he’d perfected this move over years. 

                Asami smothered a visible wince at the spectacle Fei-Long was making of himself, and nodded to Takeda.  When Shiro had him a foot from the car, Takeda expertly slipped Fei-Long the sedative as instructed, and Shiro put him in the back seat. 

                Yuuji got Schuldig into the back seat of the BMW, despite the lack of help from limp limbs. 

                Brad foresaw it wearing off in an hour or so and didn’t complain. 

                Asami walked over closer to have a better look at him.  “And Takatori?”

                “Is going to die in less than a year,” Brad stated.  “Not peacefully in his own bed.  When my organization is done with him.  You’ll have to bear up with his antics until then.  You’ve returned my man, you have yours.  I don’t see any reason to continue a useless animosity.”

                Asami decided honor was the best policy, even if he had to bite back his anger and flat out need to smack this guy down. He’d been outsmarted and that was what was irritating him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t asked for it.  He’d gambled and lost.  He bowed formally, not too low, but not shallowly.  “Please excuse my rash actions in this matter.”

                Brad bowed the exact same distance, but said nothing, meeting Asami’s eyes with a look that said 'no bullshit'. 

                Asami firmly kept his mouth shut, turned and strolled back to his car.

                Brad waited until he and his people were all in the car and the doors shut before he turned to get into the back seat of his own car. 

                Yuuji was stuck driving.  He shut the trunk and got in the driver’s seat as Asami’s white Lexus pulled quietly away on the dirt and gravel.  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me stop at the hospital to get my car.”

                “You can rescue your precious antique,” Brad stated, propping Schuldig up and putting an arm around him to keep him there.  “Are you alright?”

                “Pink fuzzy kittens are walking all over me,” Schuldig sounded totally out of it.

                Brad kissed him on the cheek and smiled, then whispered in his ear, “I could take advantage of you, you know.”

                “Why did you undress that Chinese guy?” Schuldig asked muzzily.

                Brad frowned.  “No particular reason,” he said.  “Being naked just intimidates prisoners more.”

                “Suuuurrreee,” Schuldig said.  “Asami didn’t like my freckles,” he pouted absurdly.

                Brad felt one of the ‘pink fuzzy kittens’ bounce through his shields and fended it off.  He stroked Schuldig’s hair and kissed him on the temple.  “Don’t let this become a habit,” he said.  “I—,” he hesitated.  “I’m not letting you out on your own until my talent stabilizes again.”     

                Yuuji kept an eye on them through the rear view mirror as he drove, trying not to be jealous.  Brad could have left him where he was, stuck in a fake persona, but he’d seen fit to rescue him.  He’d let him back into his life, into his arms, into his bed, even with Schuldig already there.  Yuuji knew he had no reason to be jealous.  He knew he was tolerated, and even when he’d stepped out of line through stupidity, forgiven; though he was sure he’d hear further about it from Brad later.  But somewhere along the way, he realized that this was the way things were now.  Schuldig wasn’t going to just disappear, and _he_ certainly wasn’t going to again either, and Brad was okay with it.  It was a relationship that some how, he was happy in.  And in the end, wasn’t it worth it, just to see the guy who thought Love was a ridiculous waste of time and energy had obviously fallen flat on his face in that battle?

                “Hey, Brad?”

                “What?”

                “If I followed you home, would you keep me?”

                He saw Brad’s lips curve into a smile against the red of Schuldig’s hair in the mirror.  “Never mind getting your car tonight.”

               

End (for now). 


End file.
